


Complementary To Green

by digthewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Blowjobs, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Threesome, UST, established relationship harry/ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter
Summary: When Draco had started The Malfoy Fix, he'd expected plenty of clients that were fashion disasters, and had figured having an open door policy was good for business. Although, catering to celebrity Aurors Harry Potter and Ron Weasley wasnoton the agenda.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes** : This fic has explicit threesome.
> 
>  **Kinks/Themes Chosen:** February's theme: Cleaning up for [daily_deviant](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant/)  
>  **Other Warnings/Content:** Draco's POV. Sexual arousal from jealousy. Threesome. UST. Masturbation. Dirty talk. Bottom!Draco. Mention of switching.

The first time they'd walked into Draco's place of work, Draco had half a mind to turn them away. There wasn't enough money in this world for Draco to put up with not one, but two Gryffindors—fashion disasters—and their refusal to acknowledge style.

 _Honestly, who dresses them_? was Draco's first thought when he'd made a house-visit to examine the wardrobes (or the lack thereof) of one Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

When he'd returned the next day with an actual plan, things weren't looking up.

"Believe me, we don't want you here either," Weasley said when Draco had merely commented on the "no" pile he'd made for both Weasley and Potter. He went through _every single_ item in their closet and found perhaps four, maybe five, things that would be deemed as passable for two high profile Aurors who still lived like a couple of teenagers.

"Why _did_ you hire me then?" Draco asked, crossing his arms and giving Weasley a once-over. There were plenty of robes shops in London, along with personal stylists, but the both of them had walked into _his_. Willingly.

Potter was quiet, as always, and Weasley looked sheepish. Eventually, Weasley spoke. "Hermione said she'd have our heads if we didn't have at least five _decent_ outfits for the Ministry events in the next few months. We have several galas to attend in the time-span of three weeks!" Weasley sounded outraged, and when Draco glanced over at Potter, he was simply looking over at Weasley and smiling fondly.

No, Draco hadn't missed how the master suite was the only room that looked like it was lived in, and both Potter and Weasley's clothes, although different sizes, were mixed in together. He'd always had his suspicions about these two since the war, and no matter how much the _Prophet_ was always highlighting who these men took as dates to various charity events, Draco knew a closet-case when he saw one.

"The question still stands. Why me?" He took a seat on the dark blue arm chair in the sitting room at Grimmauld place as the "yes" pile was starting to look more and more like it belonged in the "no."

Weasley's face reddened, and Draco wasn't certain if he was mortified or about to howl at Draco _again_. Potter walked up to him immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder. They looked at each other for a long minute and finally, Weasley seemed to calm down. He nodded once at Potter who turned to look at Draco.

"You're gay, right?" Potter asked.

Draco nearly spilled his tea.

"Right," he drawled, brows furrowed.

"We understand how a personal shopper—"

"Stylist—"

"Whatever," Potter said with a firm tone. Then he took a second to relax. "We need assistance, and we recognise the one providing that assistance would have to come to our home. So short of us pretending to move our belongings around and putting on a show...what we really need is someone who can be discreet. Someone who would be _willing_ to keep their mouth shut for an extra fee. Hermione suggested—"

"If you're throwing money at a person so the world doesn't find out you're two cats away from permanently playing house—"

"You don't even know—" Weasley roared but Potter settled him down again.

"The thing is, Malfoy," Potter said, taking a seat across from Draco and resting his elbows on his knees. He leaned forward to look into Draco's eyes, and Draco felt his cheeks flush. Merlin, he was getting warm and it had nothing to do with the tea. "We need someone we can trust."

"And _you_ trust _me_?"

"You owe us," Weasley said, coming around to sit next to Potter. He placed a hand on Potter's thigh; Draco hated himself for how his eyes darted directly towards Weasley's hand and what it was doing, mainly rubbing small circles on Potter's leg. Why were they testing him?

"For what?" Draco asked, making eye contact with Potter again, ignoring Weasley.

"For almost killing me," Weasley said.

"From six years ago?" Draco turned to look at Weasley then, annoyed. "Didn't you get my letter?"

"Yeah, I have it framed over my bed. I wank—"

"Ron," Potter said, sounding slightly unnerved. "Helping us is good business for you, Malfoy," he added, leaning back, and as soon as he'd done so, Weasley leaned back next to him, crossing his arms.

Honestly, why had Draco decided to even do this to himself? His own stubborn curiosity got the best of him.

"It's as simple as that. You help us. You keep your mouth shut about what you've seen here and The Malfoy Fix gets free publicity."

Potter had a good point. It wasn't his business what Potter and Weasley got up to in their messy, giant bed with sheets as rumpled as though they'd just finished shagging moments before Draco had shown up. Of course, he didn't care if Potter liked it on all fours or if he made Weasley ride him. They probably switched often, trying to keep score—to keep it all fair, sodding Gryffindors that they were.

"I can see you've rehearsed that bit," Draco said dismissively.

"With you? I'd have to be fucking prepared," Potter said with a laugh. It was warm and inviting, and something Draco wasn't used to. Not from Potter. And then Potter turned to look at Weasley, pulling him close. Naturally, the warmth was meant for Weasley, not Draco.

"Brilliant, we'll get started soon, then. When is the first event you have to attend?" Draco said, standing up and placing his empty tea mug on the table in between them.

"It's in two weeks," Potter answered, also standing up. "The Samhain ball. Then we have the pre-Harvest festival, the _post_ -Harvest festival along with the children's charity event two days after that. Not to mention, after _that_ will be the pre and post-holiday events, New Year's Ev—"

"And who, mind you, will be solving all the _crimes_ while the DMLE and the Ministry are busy getting drunk and fat at all these _charity_ galas?"

"Hermione's the Junior Minister. Take it up with her," Weasley spoke as soon as he got on his feet.

Draco resisted rolling his eyes before he addressed Potter again. It was obvious he'd have to communicate through Potter only to get anything substantial done. "Would it be safe to assume you two wouldn't want to go _out_ to shoppes?"

"We'd prefer not to," Potter said with a small smile. "I don't really like crowds where I'm recognised for celebrity and not authority."

And wasn't that just the sexiest thing Draco had ever heard? Too bad it was coming from Potter.

"Very well. Take the clothes from the 'yes' pile and return them to your wardrobe. I will be back tomorrow evening with options and ideas to get us started. I'll have to clear out my schedule for the rest of the week, maybe longer, so if there's any business I miss—"

"We'll pay you for it," Potter said. He walked Draco to the Floo and added, "We have a pretty relaxed schedule at work ourselves. In case that changes, I'll owl you."

Draco nodded his appreciation and gave a tentative smile. "Expect my consultation invoice first thing in the morning tomorrow."

"Wait, what about the clothes in the 'no' pile?" Weasley asked, trailing behind them, and Draco's face fell. Bloody hell, he'd not realised he'd been smiling. Smiling. At Potter.

"Burn them," Draco said.

"What about donating them to char—"

"You'll be doing the world a favour by keeping your tasteless, mismatched apparel away from any charity. It wouldn't be a charity for those less fortunate to walk around in _that_."

"Listen, Malfoy—"

"Hey..." Potter turned to face Weasley immediately; he grabbed Weasley by his left shoulder and raked his fingers through Weasley's long, unruly hair. Draco made a mental note about setting up appointments with Petra for a proper haircut. "We need him, remember?"

Then, Potter whispered something else in Weasley's ear, but Draco couldn't hear him. Potter leaned down and brushed his lips against the same ear, and a shudder went through _Draco_. He immediately turned around—probably the right thing to do, giving the two men their privacy—and took a step into the Floo.

"Have a good evening, gentlemen," he said, and then he was gone.

0-0-0-0

Dressing up Potter and Weasley was more humorous than Draco had initially thought. It was also just as nerve-racking. It was true that initially, Weasley had been the one who was more than willing to pick fights with Draco; he was also the one who now actually _listened_ to Draco, trying on whatever outfit Draco would pick out.

Potter, on the other hand, questioned everything.

" _Why does he get the dark blue? I like dark blue_." He always wanted to try whatever Weasley was trying, and would give clothes selected for him to Weasley.

" _Purple's not really my colour_."

" _It's not his size._ "

" _I'll spell it to fit over Ron's body_." At that, Weasley had smirked.

What was even worse was that they _never_ left the room to go and change. They didn't even turn around or wait for Draco to turn around. For _days_ , Draco had to endure Potter and Weasley getting naked in front of each other, their playful flirting, finding reasons to touch each other, and on the final day, Draco had to even break off the pseudo-wrestling match they'd initiated on the sofa because Weasley wanted to wear a silk scarf Draco had picked out for Potter.

It was ridiculous. It was too much for Draco to handle, and he'd been right, there hadn't been enough Galleons in the world for Draco to endure all of this _and_ come out unscathed.

He was also absolutely, utterly jealous.

"You just want it because the magenta reminds you of that bloke from Brixton," Potter said to Weasley as he managed to steal some article of clothing that Draco wasn't even paying attention to. He'd stopped giving them any mind once they started off with yet another one of their repartees.

"You're right," Weasley said, sounding amused. "What was his name again? He had big magenta flowers on his green pants too. It was his favourite colour."

"Trey—Terry—Terrier—"

"Terrence!" Weasley said. "Man, he was hot."

Potter threw his head back and laughed. "Right, but after the third time—"

"Malfoy, listen to this," Weasley said with as much ease as if he and Draco were long-time pals.

Draco turned around to look at the two of them and Weasley was in nothing but a pair of black trousers with the magenta scarf wrapped around his neck. Potter was only wearing a pair of boxers; his white shirt was open.

Now they _were_ purposely torturing Draco. He was sure of it.

"What?" Draco snapped.

Weasley ignored his outburst. "So a few months ago, Harry and I were at this Muggle pub in Brixton, and then we brought home this bloke. We had to drive with him in his car, of course, even if it would've been easier to Apparate, but you know—"

"Muggle," Potter said.

Draco's eyes narrowed then. After spending days with them, dressing them as if they were two school children with the shortest attention spans known to wizardkind, Draco had not known they were—what? In an open relationship? Polyamorous?

"Right," Weasley said. "So, we get here, and he's magenta, head-to-toe. I mean, when we were in the pub, it was dark, and well, he was hot. Big blue eyes, nice round arse...but you think _we_ have bad taste in clothing. You probably would've had a heart attack with his magenta-flowered pants that _did not_ hide his cock well enough."

"No, they didn't," Potter said, turning around to leave the room; he returned with three small glasses and a bottle of Ogden's.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Draco asked when Potter sat down next to Weasley and poured the drink in the three glasses. His and Weasley's legs were pressed together when Potter offered Draco a drink. 

"Sharing stories, Malfoy, and having a drink. What does it look like?"

"We're supposed—I'm supposed to be _working_ and you're supposed to be trying on robes!" Draco protested. "Besides, I've got to be going. I've to finalise my appointment with the hair stylist. We are supposed to be going—"

"Just have a drink, Draco," Potter said as Weasley settled back into the sofa and threw his leg across Potter's lap.

"Seriously, Malfoy, just relax. We don't have a lot of friends over and I've had a long day. Reports don't fill themselves out, you know?"

"No, usually you get Granger to do them for you," Draco retorted. "I'm sure." He crossed his arms, getting defensive. He'd no idea why, but it seemed like the thing to do.

"Forget it," Weasley said with a derisive tone. "If he doesn't want his bloody drink, I'll take it." He reached over to where Potter's hand was outstretched towards Draco and tried to grab it. Potter pulled it away from him.

"No, it's not yours."

Weasley gave Potter a smile Draco couldn't comprehend, not at first, but it was obviously something Potter was used to because he gave Weasley a warning look. Then, Draco saw Weasley's foot moving while it rested in Potter's lap, and more specifically, his ankle was rubbing against Potter's groin.

"Ron..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Draco exclaimed and threw his hands up in the air. "I'm leaving so you can continue on with whatever—I don't care. I will owl you in the morning with the times of your appointment with the hairdresser. Do. Not. Be. Late."

"Malfoy wait—" Potter shouted after him but Draco didn't turn, and right when he called out for his address in the Floo, Draco thought he heard him say, " _You weren't supposed to scare him off, Ron._ "

0-0-0-0

Weasley's appointment was first. Much to Draco's surprise, he was already waiting for Draco outside The Final Cut. He looked shy somehow, Draco thought, but didn't bring it up with him.

"Thank you for meeting me here," Weasley said, sounding scared.

"It's just a haircut, Weasley. Why do you look like you're going into battle against a herd of spiders?"

"You had to bring up the spiders, didn't you?" Weasley said, groaning. He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and that was when Draco noticed. He was wearing one of the new outfits Draco had picked out. Dark grey trousers with a finely pressed black button down shirt, top button open, and even the shoes! Black leather loafers, the ones Weasley had whined about trying because he wanted to purchase Potter's Muggle trainers.

"Are you going somewhere after?" Draco asked, giving Weasley another once-over, and realising he'd just been caught.

"No. Why? Like the outfit?" Weasley grinned at him in a way, Draco wasn't used to. In a way he'd only seen him smile towards Potter.

"Let's go inside," Draco said, he didn't want to read too much into Weasley's actions.

When Petra, the stylist, was done with Weasley's hair, Draco finally took him _all_ in. Bloody hell, he looked, for lack of a better word, _hot_. And Draco never thought he'd associate that word with a damned Weasley. On top of that, Draco thought about how he couldn't _wait_ for Potter to see him. Why did Draco care about Potter's reaction to seeing his polyamorous live-in lover?

When the hair stylist left the room after Draco had told her to give them a minute, Weasley turned to look at his reflection again. "Is it good?" he asked, running his hand through his hair and biting his lower lip. He was nervous, and he was asking for Draco's approval?

"I—uh—yeah—" Draco spluttered. "It's good." Weasley grinned at him through the reflection and Draco felt his face burning again. He didn't understand why he was getting so flustered around these two men lately.

He diverted his gaze away, which incidentally landed on Weasley's arse, and Draco marvelled at how _good_ it looked in those trousers. "Definitely a good purchase," he mumbled to himself.

"Yeah?" Weasley asked and of course, Draco had said it out loud because he'd been spending time with two imbeciles that tended to blurt out everything that came to mind and now Draco was in the habit of doing so as well. "Harry hasn't seen them yet. The new clothes, I mean. And now with the hair cut—Just not used to it."

"What? New clothes? Getting a haircut?" Draco asked.

"All of it. I don't—Mum usually cut my hair. It wasn't until Hermione warned me to get it together, saying I was a wizarding hero, Auror, all that— I needed to start looking like it. Harry, too."

"Yes, well, and then you got stuck with me," Draco said. He'd seen how reluctant Weasley was about taking his help, even if Potter had been more than cordial about it. Weasley had not been kind to him. Not until—

"Hey!" Weasley said, evidently having closed the distance between them. Draco had no idea when the man had come so close to him. He supposed he'd have to be all stealth, being an undercover investigator and all that. Yes, so, maybe Draco had looked up a few articles about Weasley in some old copies of the _Prophet_.

"You've been great, all right?" he said to Draco, placing his hands on Draco's shoulders and squeezing them. "I know how I was acting, okay? But Malfoy, you're...you're something else..." Weasley's thumb rubbed in circles on Draco's right shoulder, a gesture he'd seen Potter do to Weasley to calm him down—make him almost compliant.

Draco looked up, and they were eye-to-eye, almost at the same height, and when Weasley smiled, it reached his eyes. "You're brilliant," he whispered.

Draco didn't know if it was actually happening, or if it was just his imagination. When he'd think about it later, he wouldn't know who'd leaned in first but their lips were mere centimetres apart when Petra came back in the room and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry to disturb, but Mr Potter is waiting outside—"

"Oh, shite!" Weasley said in almost a panic and Draco's eyes widened. Did he regret doing—almost doing—whatever they were going to be doing? And what was Draco thinking? Did he really just almost kiss a client? _A Weasley_?

"Don't worry, Weasley. I won't tell him—"

"What? No, it's not _that_ ," Weasley said, shaking his head. "I don't want him to see me before his _transformation_. I mean, we said, we'd meet later at home and surprise each other, that’s all."

"Oh," said Draco, dumbfounded.

"Come by with him later, okay?" Weasley said to Draco, and without waiting for a reply, without waiting for anything, leaned in and kissed Draco on the cheek. And then, Disapparated.

0-0-0-0

Potter was going to be the death of him.

First, just like Weasley, he was also wearing his new clothes. Even though Draco had been successful in convincing Weasley to only purchase wizarding outfits, Potter had been insistent on buying several new pairs of Muggle jeans, as well. Today, he was wearing one of them.

In dark blue denim that hung low on his hips, a crisp white shirt with green buttons matching perfectly with his eyes, Potter was a walking wet dream. He wasn't even trying.

He needed a shave. He _so_ needed one, but he was sporting a stubble which would make women weak in the knees, and Draco didn't know if he wanted to see Potter with a proper haircut, wearing the clothes he was wearing, _and_ that damned stubble. Gods, Draco could _imagine_ the parts of his body where Potter's face would fit well, and the friction from that facial hair—

"Malfoy?"

"You need a shave," Draco blurted out and left the room to fetch Calvin. Yes, that's what he was going to do. Calvin and Petra were going to give Potter a makeover—then Draco was just going to go home and lock himself up in his house and _never leave_. He was never _ever_ going to see Potter or Weasley again because this was the last step of their transformation. They had plenty of clothes to last them for the year, for all the galas they'd have to attend. Now, all they had to do now was return to see Petra and Calvin to keep up their look.

Draco was done.

"Are you coming by later to help pick out the outfits for the first event?" Potter asked as he walked into the lounge to see Draco.

Draco studied his face. It was clean, and smooth, and his jaw was so perfectly square, Draco could imagine sliding his tongue over it. "I...what?" Draco snapped, choosing to immediately change the subject. "You're not done, Potter. You still need a hairc—"

"I know," Potter said rolling his eyes. "But I wanted to make sure you were still going to be here after I was done."

"Why wouldn't I be here? I have to approve the style and then pay the specialists." Draco stood up off the sofa, crossing his arms.

"The specialists? It's just a haircut, Draco."

Draco scowled at him. This was the third or fourth time Potter had called him by his first name. Potter let it slip with such ease, it drove Draco wild.

"Just go back to get your bloody haircut so we can all move on with our lives. Okay, Potter?"

Potter frowned but didn't say anything, and then he was back twenty minutes later. His haircut was different from Weasley's but he also looked simply breathtaking. It was short in the back and long in the front, parted at an angle, whereas Weasley's hair was parted right down the middle.

They looked good. They'd look even better together, and Draco imagined what their reunion would look like: seeing each other for the first time with the brand new clothes and new hair styles, and Draco couldn't help but think how long it'd be until they were all over each other. Whenever Draco was with them, it was obvious they had a hard time keeping their hands off one another. It must be really hard to be at work and at gatherings pretending to be just friends, when in secret, they were just so in love. In love, or in lust, at least. And Draco hadn't completely forgotten about the little story Weasley had shared about how they _shared_.

"Usually when you're gaping at me, it means you hate something. But I get the feeling this is a different reaction," Potter said, cautiously, as if he were worried he was going to spook Draco. He wasn't far off.

Draco took in a deep breath and steeled himself. "I'd say my work is done here. You'll get the last of my invoice via owl in a few short days." He started to pick up his things and made a mental note to transfer a few extra Galleons to Petra and Calvin's accounts the next time he was at Gringotts.

"Where are you going?" Potter asked, placing his hand on Draco's arm, and Draco hadn't even noticed he'd got so close to him. The lack of distance between them nearly made Draco lose his ability to think. Fuck, he wanted to slide his finger across Potter's cheek and feel the smooth skin there. The fact Weasley was going to feel it later—when they'd be cheek-to-cheek in bed together—was almost unbearable to think about. His cock grew hard and Draco knew he had to get out of there.

"Malfoy..." Potter leaned in close, his hot breath caressing Draco's face, and bloody hell, he smelled good too. A mix of sandalwood, musk, and _man_. It'd been far too long for Draco since he'd had sex and he needed to get the fuck away from Potter ten minutes ago.

Potter brushed his lips against Draco's, because apparently, wanting to move and actually moving were two different things. "I was hoping you'd come and spend some more time with me and Ron. Keep us company."

Draco's eyes widened and his cock pressed against his tight pants and now he was regretting wearing such constricting undergarments under his loose robes. " _What_?" He managed to croak out.

"Ron wants you there, and I want it too," Potter said with a shy smile.

"I have to go," Draco said, finding the strength inside him to move away from Potter, grab his belongings to make his way to the Floo. "You don't need my help with the outfits; they've already been picked out and labelled for all the events." And then Draco got the fuck out of there as soon as he could. He would have Apparated but he was so hard, he worried he'd injure himself. He held his breath all the way until he got home and finally collapsed on the sofa.

His hands frantically made their way to his cock, pushing the robes up and his pants down until he grabbed a hold of his erection and started pumping it. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he remembered the feel of Potter's lips on him, Weasley's warm body almost pressing against his, and the brush of Weasley’s lips on his cheek. He wondered what Weasley's lips would feel like on his cock, what _both_ of their hands would feel like on him; parting his arse-cheeks, stretching him open.

The more he thought about it, the slower his movements became, and he lifted his hips slightly off the sofa. He wanted to take his time all of a sudden, give in to the sensation, the image of being royally fucked by the combination of Potter and Weasley. He remembered the time they'd wrestled on the sofa together, and Draco thought about what it would be like to be sandwiched between them. With Potter's cock brushing up against his hole, and Weasley's erection rubbing against Draco's.

Draco threw his head back and groaned; he was so close. He brought his free hand to his mouth and licked his fingers until they were wet and shoved them up his arse. Fucking himself on his own fingers, Draco came whispering Potter's name and aching for Weasley's mouth on him.

0-0-0-0

It was the evening of the Samhain ball and all Draco wanted to do was show up at Grimmauld Place to make sure Potter and Weasley wouldn't screw it all up. He'd left clear instructions on all the outfits, what to wear and when, and how to fix their hair. Still, he didn't trust the two men to take care of it on their own, or maybe it was just the fact that he needed new material to fantasise about.

Ever since the day he'd come home and envisioned the two of them fucking him while he wanked on the sofa, he'd not been able to think about anyone else. Draco forced himself to think of _anyone_ he'd found attractive, but all of his thoughts always returned to the combination of Potter and Weasley. He couldn't even tell who he wanted more, or even if he wanted one more than the other. He wanted them both. Together. Fucking his mouth, or inside him, or one of them sucking him off while the other fucked him with his tongue. Or him rimming Weasley while Weasley sucked Potter off—the combinations were endless.

Most of the time, he'd ended up wrapping both his hands around his cock, pretending one hand belonged to Potter and the other to Weasley as they both got him off whispering hot things in his ear.

What was fucking wrong with him?

At half past eight, Draco took a cold shower, prepared some tea, but then opted for wine as he sat in his silk pyjamas and his new dressing gown and opened up a book. He was not going to get himself off tonight thinking of how the perfectly tailored robes would look on Potter, how they'd hug his muscles just right, and how Weasley's arse would look so bloody _edible_. He was not going to dwell on how they'd take dates to the ball and dance with those women, making a perfect picture for the _Prophet_ only to go home and fuck each other's brains out. He was going to read an old novel, get lost in the mystery of the book, and then hopefully the wine would put him to bed. Also, He was not going to think about the plug next to his bed and how he _could_ use it later.

He had a very important appointment the next day, and then it was going to be business as usual. The Malfoy Fix would _naturally_ take off soon, given what Potter had promised would actually happen, and then he'd have to hire an assistant, open up a second shop, and well, he was just going to be so very busy! Draco looked forward to that. It was going to be a great holiday season.

He was just about to get to the good part of the book—right when Langdon had figured out the password was "apple"—when there was a knock on his door. Draco checked his pocket watch for the time and saw it was ten after nine. He wasn't expecting anyone and most of his friends and family knew better than to _knock_ on his front door.

Draco put down the book, pressed his palms down his dressing gown to straighten it up a bit, and went to answer the door. His heart almost skipped a beat when he found Potter and Weasley standing there. Their faces looked flushed, mouths swollen, and _damn_ if Draco didn't want to reach over and run his thumb across those swollen lips.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, taking a step back, not realising his actions looked like he was inviting them in.

Potter and Weasley didn't miss a beat and they stepped in, closing the door behind them.

"Well, what do you think?" Weasley asked, sounding impatient.

Draco gave their outfits a critical look. "You switched robes," he said. He scowled slightly as Weasley was wearing the navy blue robes with silver designs, and Potter was wearing the black ones with red swirly patterns. Draco had _distinctly_ written instructions on which robes should have been worn by whom. Gods, he should have known better. He should have known Potter was going to do this just to piss him off.

They both shrugged, at least having the decency of looking sheepish, and then grinned at Draco.

"What happened to your dates?" Draco asked next, as the two of them only _stared_ at him and the silence was getting a bit too much. "A bit early for you two to leave the party, isn’t it?"

"We took them home," Weasley said. "I told mine I wasn't feeling well and Harry was going to take care of me and we would go and see a Healer at St Mungo's tomorrow."

"And then you two decided to snog like a couple of teenagers before showing up at my door." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and hoped like hell he wasn't blushing.

"I wanted to see you," Potter said. "Ron didn't have a problem tagging along."

Then it was quiet again and they were both staring at Draco. Again. This time when they shared a similar smile, Draco knew he was in trouble. They'd noticed.

"Is that..." Potter drawled.

"Magenta?" Weasley asked.

Then, Draco did flush. His face was burning hot and he wanted to dip his head in ice-cold water. Yes, his new dressing gown he'd bought for himself yesterday was the unfortunate colour of magenta. Draco liked the idea of wearing it to bed and coming up with all sorts of dirty scenarios of what Weasley could do to him.

"I... It's a good colour," Draco said, his hands behind his back as he stood tall. "My night suit is green, and it's rather complementary."

"It's my favourite colour now," Weasley said.

Draco's brows furrowed. "You said it was Trevor's favourite colour."

"Trent," Weasley said.

"Terrence," Potter said.

"Whatever," both Weasley and Draco said at the same time, and then they looked at each other. Draco bit the inside of his cheek.

Without any preamble, Weasley closed the distance between himself and Draco, and his hands were on the knot that tied around the dressing gown. "Magenta looks better on the floor, I think. Your rug is green too. It'll complement it well."

Weasley gave a smile Draco couldn't look away from, and he reached out to run his fingers through Weasley's hair. "You did a good job tonight."

"Harry fixed it for me," Weasley said, untying the knot and removing Draco's gown as it slid to the floor. They didn't pay any attention to it as both Weasley and Draco turned to look at Potter.

Weasley went behind Draco while Draco stood perfectly still, scared to make a move, scared of what might happen, yet excited for it all the same. He couldn't believe both Potter and Weasley were there, in his home, _wanting_ him. Ready to claim him.

Weasley's hands slid under Draco's shirt, travelling up before they made their way down under his trousers. He pushed them down as Draco leaned back, pressing his arse against Weasley's groin. When Weasley grabbed a hold of his cock, Draco let out a small gasp, and the man chuckled. "Look, he's all ready for you, Harry."

"So this is how it works..." Draco said breathily. "You share."

As Potter walked up to him, while Weasley slowly stroked his cock, Potter placed a finger on Draco's chin and lifted his face up. "We only share with each other," he said, leaning down to kiss Draco.

This time, it wasn't just a brush of his lips against Draco's. Potter was possessive, needy, and desperate. He pried Draco's mouth open with his tongue, demanding entrance, and when Draco allowed it, he claimed Draco's mouth like no one else ever had.

"What does he taste like?" Weasley asked, his breath sending shivers down Draco's spine, and he didn't stop stroking Draco for even a second.

Draco could feel how hard Weasley was and they were almost grinding together; all the while, Potter was fucking Draco's mouth with his tongue.

Potter pulled away and looked at Weasley with a small smile. "Red wine and chocolate," he said, tipping Draco's head sideways and then Weasley's lips were on his. "And something so sweet, it can only be _Draco_."

It was an awkward kiss, but they seemed to make it work, and when Weasley moaned into Draco's mouth, Draco was ready to drop to his knees.

0-0-0-0

The need for words seemed to diminish as Draco led them both to his bedroom. When he settled on his bed, resting against the headboard, both Weasley and Potter stood by the foot of the bed, looking at each other.

Weasley spoke first. "How do you want—"

Potter shook his head. "It's different this time."

"I know, I can feel it too," Weasley replied.

They seemed to be speaking in code, and Draco was struggling to understand. What was different? Why did Potter, no, why did _both_ of them look so bloody nervous? Draco knew it was time for him to take matters into his own hands.

Again. Just like how he'd told them to dress, it was time for him to tell them to undress.

"Potter—"

"Harry," Potter said.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry, I want to watch you undress Weas—" He stopped himself when Potter looked annoyed. "For fuck's sake..." He paused again, " _Ron_. Take your time. I want to watch you enjoy it."

Both men rushed to reach the other's collar and Draco had to remind them to "go slow." He pushed his trousers off and started stroking his cock as he watched Harry take his time, opening up the buttons down the front of Ron's robes, smiling at him, and occasionally kissing him. The tenderness that was there — the thing that'd originally attracted Draco to the two of them—was undeniable. He smeared the precome leaking from his cock down his erection and hoped he wouldn't come right then and there from just _watching_ the two men taking each other's clothes off.

After Harry had finished, Ron started. He was completely naked, hard, and his hands fumbled with Harry's buttons. He wasn't as delicate with Harry as Harry had been with him, but when Harry leaned to whisper something in Ron's ear, Ron visibly relaxed.

They both approached the bed holding hands. Merlin, he was really going to do this. He was going to fuck Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the same time. Or, more likely they were going to fuck him and Draco couldn't decide which one he wanted first.

Before Draco could say anything, Ron was kneeling down in front of him and he took Draco's cock in his mouth. Draco gasped as he arched up when Ron's tongue swirled around the head of his cock.

"He's good at that," Harry said, looking down at Draco and locking his eyes with him. "Loves to taste your skin there."

"He sucks you off?" Draco asked stupidly and Harry nodded. He'd started kneading Ron's arse as Ron's head bobbed up and down Draco's cock. "When?"

"In the shower usually," Harry said with a grin. "Right before he pushes me against the tiled wall and fucks me."

Draco groaned and he was just _oh so close_ and wasn't ready to come yet. "I want that, please..." he said, all the while, bucking his hips up and fucking Ron's mouth. "Want the both of you inside me. Together. Taking Turns. Either way."

"You want to call all the shots, Malfoy?" Ron asked, releasing Draco's cock with a pop, and looking up at him. His pupils were dilated with lust, and want, and need, and so much desire, Draco thought he would _die_.

"Listening to me has been working out for you so far; why stop now?" Draco said with a smirk.

"Very well, but I do know what Harry likes," Ron said, balancing himself on his knees and pushing back against Harry. "You fuck him first." He was looking directly at Harry then and their lips met in an equally bruising kiss as Draco had experienced with Harry. Harry's hands roamed over Ron's body as they kissed and kissed and Draco watched. He knew he could watch them kissing, or fucking, or doing anything all night, and be completely satisfied.

Ron laid down on the bed as Draco climbed on top of him. Harry had managed to summon lube from somewhere and his fingers pressed in, stretching Draco open. It was almost exactly the same way Draco had fantasised. His cock rubbed against Ron's as Harry pushed into him.

Draco threw his head back, feeling the thickness of Harry's cock, as it pulsated inside him. Harry's movements were slow and deliberate at first, and every time he pulled out and slammed in, Draco's cock rubbed against Ron's and Ron moaned.

"Do you watch as he fucks the others?" Draco asked, his hands wrapping around both his and Ron's erections while Ron's hands fisted the sheets. Draco figured he wasn't touching himself because he wanted to wait for his turn to be inside Draco. Draco had wanted it too, but Harry just felt so _right_ , he didn't want him to stop.

He could spend all night getting used and abused by these two men, and then again in the morning.

"No," Ron said, looking past Draco's shoulder towards Harry. "Harry doesn't fuck anyone but me."

"But..." Draco started to say but Harry moved faster, his thrusts harsher, and Draco's head hung low. His hands came down and pressed against the bed as he pushed back, taking, wanting, craving more.

"He's always wanted to fuck you," Ron said, and Draco heard the smirk in his voice; it was as if they had an inside joke Draco wasn't privy to.

"And you?" Draco asked, his head snapping up to look at Ron.

Ron smiled again then. "I do whatever Harry wants. He wants you. _I_ want you."

"You don't hate me?"

"Now, Ron. Please!" Harry begged, pulling out of Draco; Ron immediately sat up, grabbing Draco's hips and easing him down on his cock. They worked like a well-oiled machine and Draco loved being an instrument in their design.

The second Draco was settled on Ron's cock, he moved, jerking his hips fast, and almost riding out his orgasm. He felt Harry's weight behind him, his chest pressing against Draco's back, and his cock teasing his hole while he was full of Ron.

"Come on me, Malfoy," Ron said, thrusting up.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why do I have to call you Ron if you can't call me Draco?"

Harry leaned down to grab a hold of Draco's erection and started pumping. "Come on him, _Draco_ ," he whispered in Draco's ear. Ultimately, it was as if that was the moment Draco had been waiting for. He spilled himself, all over Harry's hand and Ron's chest and stomach. Ron wasn't far behind, either. As soon as he came, he pulled Draco towards him, kissed him, and then somehow manoeuvred Draco to be on his hands and knees so Harry could fuck him again.

How did they do it? They communicated without words, and when Ron looked at Harry, Harry knew exactly what to do.

"He feels...he feels..." Harry whispered, pounding into Draco while Ron kissed him senseless.

"Tell me how he feels, Harry. Tell me how good it is," Ron said, returning to kiss Draco again, biting down on his lower lip, and then flicking his tongue across it. "Can't wait to fuck this mouth later," he mumbled to Draco.

"So tight, but _love_ the way he stretches around me, Ron. God, fuck. I want you, I want both of us to..."

"Yes!" Draco said, pushing back again, wanting more pressure from Harry, feeling like he could come again in that second.

With a low groan, Harry pushed in all the way and held Draco tight. Then, Draco felt himself get filled for the second time as Harry's come started to drip from his hole and down his leg. He'd barely felt this satiated before.

The instant Harry pulled out of him, Draco collapsed on top of Ron. Ron chuckled and Harry got up off the bed. He was back a moment later with his wand. He spelled them clean, crashing on the bed next to both of them, while Draco was still on top of Ron.

"Are we staying the night?" Harry asked Ron, and Draco inadvertently stiffened up.

"I want to, if you do," Ron said. His tone was teasing, and he rubbed small circles on Draco's back as if feeling Draco's unease.

"You know I'm right here, and it is my house."

"But are you ready to kick us out yet?" Ron asked and Draco scowled, which was lost on them because his face was buried in Ron's neck. He wanted to live there.

"Fine. But, I'm not making breakfast," Draco said, getting off Ron and settling himself in between Ron and Harry. Harry immediately wrapped his arm around Draco's waist and edged himself closer.

"That's all right, I know a place where we can go for breakfast and wizards won't bother us," Harry said.

"I have an appointment tomorrow," Draco said.

"Cancel it," both Harry and Ron said at once.

They were unbelievable. "In public? You want me to go out for breakfast with you...in public?" asked Draco.

"Yeah. And then we can come back here or go to our place for more fun," said Ron.

"I don't understand," Draco said, feeling a warmth he knew he shouldn't be. Ron and Harry were _together_ and they brought men home to fuck and then got rid of them. He had been certain this was going to be a one-time thing, that's why he hadn’t wanted to pursue it in the first place. He didn't want to feel like he was going to be discarded.

"We want more than one night, Ma—Draco," Ron said.

Harry kissed the top of his head. "And if you're our personal shopper—"

"Stylist," both Ron and Draco said at the same time.

"Whatever," Harry said, shaking his head. "So if we're seen together, it won't be considered a monumental event, or scandalous, or—"

"I still can't comprehend what you're attempting to say," Draco said, turning around to look at Harry. He looked so different without his glasses; with Draco's face so close to his. As soon as Draco had turned, Ron spooned him from behind; his limp cock nestling between Draco's thighs. Draco almost let out a small sigh.

"Be with us," Harry said, kissing Draco's nose before kissing his lips. "It's what we want. It's what we've wanted with you for days and—it's been good. It can get better."

Draco pretended to think it over, all the while, pushing back into Ron's embrace. "You mean, I get to dress you up and then undress you as much as I wish?" he asked, unable to mask his smile in a thoughtful look.

"As long as you let me tie you up with that magenta dressing gown and have Harry ride you," Ron said, his face buried in Draco's hair. The thought sent shivers down Draco, and with a small smile of his lips, he watched as Harry closed his eyes, and fell asleep. 

It was going to be an interesting morning. _This_ was going to be an interesting arrangement.

THE END

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_End Notes: If you google magenta, the definition you get is: a light purplish red that is one of the primary subtractive colors, complementary to green._

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Thanks for reading!


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